Meeting the World’s Terrain on My Terms

Facing my fears one trip at a time

Waterfall in Yosemite National Park. Picture by author.

For the Globetrotter’s February challenge on terrains, I am reminded that my relationship with terrains has been fraught in my time as a traveler. Facing different terrains has always been intimidating for me.

I grew up in the city. My mother tried her best to introduce us to camping, hiking and being outdoors, we were city kids through and through.

I was also something of a scaredy-cat when it came to the outdoors. I remember being scared when it would get really windy. And of course, if there were thunderstorms, I was going to hide in my closet or under the covers.

Coming face to face with the dangers of the earth’s terrain was not something in my experience as I developed a thirst for travel. Nor was it something that I particularly wanted to experience. But my encounters with the world’s terrain have shaped me and made me a better traveler.

The big, scary rock

Uluru (Ayers Rock) in 1992. Photo by author.

The first truly scary travel experience I can remember having was when I was on an exchange trip in Australia in the 1990s. I mention that it was the 1990s because at that time it was still common to climb Uluru (then called Ayers Rock) in the Australian Outback. I was a teenager.

Not wanting to miss out on what our guides assured us was a once-in-a-lifetime experience, I ignored my internal sense of discomfort looking up at the rock. It was so steep there was a chain to help people climb the face of the rock.

Climbing the face of Uluru, complete with the chain needed to navigate the steep incline. Photo by author.

What you couldn’t see from the ground was that you had to cross the length of the rock in order to get to the place where the “I climbed Ayers Rock” signature book was.

Traversing the length of the rock was very hard — lots of scrambling up steep slippery inclines and inching down the other side on our butts. At some point during our climb, it started to drizzle.

The slippery conditions and impending storm made this a frightening experience. There was a lot of falling, and one of the students in my group twisted their ankle. I was never so happy to get back down to the ground.

Once we were back on the ground, and with the rain picking up, I think we realized that we narrowly avoided being in even greater danger. That experience stuck with me and made me more of a timid traveler. Maybe Adrienne Beaumont can add dangerous geological encounters to her list of reasons not to visit Australia.

Regretting not walking on lava

Another scary experience I had with terrain was at Hawaii National Volcanoes Park. The park had a number of places where old lava flows had dried, creating “new land.”

And when we were there in 2005, there was also active lava flow down the side of the volcano into the ocean. You could see the lava flowing from far away, creating steam as it hit the cooler water of the Pacific Ocean.

If you wanted to get a close-up view of this magnificent phenomenon, you had to hike over a lava field, in the dark.

A lava field in Hawaii Volcanoes National Park. This is the surface you had to hike on to see the active lava flow in 2005. Photo by author.

Did I mention that this hike over the lava field would be at night and was a few miles? Did I also mention that we did not have hiking boots, just sneakers? I was afraid of getting hurt, or even worse, getting lost. Even though my husband wanted to make the hike to see the lava closer up, I refused to go.

I still regret not taking that hike. Instead of getting to see actual lava flowing, we were limited to distant glimpses of orange glows. I hope I’ll get another chance to make it to Hawaii to view an active lava flow.

All we got to see of the active lava flow because I was too afraid to take the lava field hike. Photo by author.

(Darren Weir wrote a nice piece on other sites around Hawaii’s Big Island if you’re looking to plan a trip.)

I think the regret from that experience in Hawaii has motivated me to be more fearless in my travels. I now think about whether or how much I would regret missing out on an experience before deciding whether or not I’m up to it.

Getting out of my comfort zone

Keeping in mind my Hawaii experience, I’ve definitely done some things outside of my comfort zone.

In Belize and Guatemala, I hiked through a cave to Mayan burial ruins, climbed the towers at Tikal, and snorkeled with nurse sharks. I have stood on the edge of cliffs in Maine and walked on hanging bridges in Vancouver.

The kids learned that the Pacific Ocean is much colder than the Atlantic Ocean and the Caribbean on this trip to Northern California. Photo by author.

I’ve also tried to take my kids to places with challenging terrain. We have explored beaches, mountains, and glaciers. We take hikes, swim, surf and snorkel, and enjoy experiencing all the different places the world has to offer.

Even though we are raising our kids in the city, we want them to appreciate the splendor of the outdoors. Perhaps the more familiar they become with all the different terrain the world has to offer, the less fearful of it they will be.

Our most recent adventure was to Alaska, and we did a number of things that pushed us onto uncomfortable terrain.

The kids during our glacier hike in Alaska. Photo by author.

We hiked on a glacier. And we took a bear-viewing trip, ending up only yards from two young bears playing on the beach.

I’m still hoping to make it back to Hawaii to see the lava flow. But in the meantime, I’m doing my best to make the most of the opportunities I have to see all the wonderful terrain of this earth.